The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
having given her a charm, which enabled her to change her shape. And
he made Vasantaka one-eyed and like a Bráhman boy, and as for himself,
he in the same way assumed the appearance of an old Bráhman. Then
that mighty-minded one took the queen, after she had assumed that
appearance, and accompanied by Vasantaka, set out leisurely for
the town of Magadha. And so Vásavadattá left her house, and went in
bodily presence along the road, though she wandered in spirit to her
husband. Then Rumanvat burnt her pavilion with fire, and exclaimed
aloud--"Alas! alas! The queen and Vasantaka are burnt." And so in that
place there rose to heaven at the same time flames and lamentation;
the flames gradually subsided, not so the sound of weeping. Then
Yaugandharáyana with Vásavadattá and Vasantaka reached the city
of the king of Magadha, and seeing the princess Padmávatí in the
garden, he went up to her with those two, though the guards tried to
prevent him. And Padmávatí, when she saw the queen Vásavadattá in the
dress of a Bráhman woman, fell in love with her at first sight. The
princess ordered the guards to desist from their opposition, and had
Yaugandharáyana, who was disguised as a Bráhman, conducted into her
presence. And she addressed to him this question, "Great Bráhman,
who is this girl you have with you, and why are you come?" And he
answered her, "Princess, this is my daughter Ávantiká by name, and
her husband, being addicted to vice, [212] has deserted her and fled
somewhere or other. So I will leave her in your care, illustrious lady,
while I go and find her husband, and bring him back, which will be
in a short time. And let this one-eyed boy, her brother, remain here
near her, in order that she may not be grieved at having to remain
alone." He said this to the princess, and she granted his request,
and, taking leave of the queen, the good minister quickly returned to
Lávánaka. Then Padmávatí took with her Vásavadattá, who was passing
under the name of Ávantiká, and Vasantaka who accompanied her in
the form of a one-eyed boy; and shewing her excellent disposition by
her kind reception and affectionate treatment of them, entered her
splendidly-adorned palace; and there Vásavadattá, seeing Sítá in the
history of Ráma represented upon the painted walls, was enabled to
bear her own sorrow. And Padmávatí perceived that Vásavadattá was
a person of very high rank, by her shape, her delicate softness,
the graceful manner in which she sat down, and ate, and also by the
smell of her body, which was fragrant as the blue lotus, and so she
entertained her with luxurious comfort to her heart's content, even
such as she enjoyed herself. And she thought to herself, "Surely she
is some distinguished person remaining here in concealment; did not
Draupadí remain concealed in the palace of the king of Viráta?" Then
Vásavadattá, out of regard for the princess made for her unfading
garlands and forehead-streaks, as the king of Vatsa had previously
taught her; and Padmávatí's mother, seeing her adorned with them,
asked her privately who had made those garlands and streaks. Then
Padmávatí said to her, "There is dwelling here in my house a certain
lady of the name of Ávantiká, she made all these for me." When her
mother heard that, she said to her, then, my daughter, she is not a
woman, she is some goddess, since she possesses such knowledge; gods
and also hermits remain in the houses of good people for the sake of
deluding them, and in proof of this listen to the following anecdote.
Story of Kuntí.
There was once a king named Kuntibhoja; and a hermit of the name
of Durvásas, who was exceedingly fond of deluding people, came and
stayed in his palace. He commissioned his own daughter Kuntí to attend
upon the hermit, and she diligently waited upon him. And one day he,
wishing to prove her, said to her, "Cook boiled rice with milk and
sugar quickly, while I bathe, and then I will come and eat it." The
sage said this, and bathed quickly, and then he came to eat it, and
Kuntí brought him the vessel full of that food; and then the hermit,
knowing that it was almost red-hot with the heated rice, and seeing
that she could not hold it in her hands, [213] cast a look at the back
of Kuntí and she perceiving what was passing in the hermit's mind,
placed the vessel on her back; then he ate to his heart's content while
Kuntí's back was being burnt, and because, though she was terribly
burnt, she stood without being at all discomposed, the hermit was much
pleased with her conduct, and after he had eaten granted her a boon.
"So the hermit remained there, and in the same way this Ávantiká, who
is now staying in your palace, is some distinguished person, therefore
endeavour to conciliate her." When she heard this from the mouth of
her mother, Padmávatí showed the utmost consideration for Vásavadattá,
who was living disguised in her palace. And Vásavadattá for her part,
being separated from her lord, remained there pale with bereavement,
like a lotus in the night. [214] But the various boyish grimaces,
which Vasantaka exhibited, [215] again and again called a smile into
her face.
In the meanwhile the king of Vatsa, who had wandered away into very
distant hunting-grounds, returned late in the evening to Lávánaka. And
there he saw the women's apartments reduced to ashes by fire, and heard
from his ministers that the queen was burnt with Vasantaka. And when
he heard it, he fell on the ground, and he was robbed of his senses by
unconsciousness, that seemed to desire to remove the painful sense of
grief. But in a moment he came to himself and was burnt with sorrow
in his heart, as if penetrated with the fire that strove to consume
[216] the image of the queen imprinted there. Then overpowered
with sorrow he lamented, and thought of nothing but suicide; but
a moment after he began to reflect, calling to mind the following
prediction--"From this queen shall be born a son who shall reign
over all the Vidyádharas. This is what the hermit Nárada told me,
and it cannot be false. Moreover that same hermit warned me that
I should have sorrow for some time. And the affliction of Gopálaka
seems to be but slight. Besides I cannot detect any excessive grief
in Yaugandharáyana and the other ministers, therefore I suspect the
queen may possibly be alive. But the ministers may in this matter
have employed a certain amount of politic artifice, therefore I
may some day be re-united with the queen. So I see an end to this
affliction." Thus reflecting and being exhorted by his ministers,
the king established in his heart self-control. And Gopálaka sent
off a private messenger immediately, without any one's knowing
of it, to his sister, to comfort her, with an exact report of the
state of affairs. Such being the situation in Lávánaka, the spies
of the king of Magadha who were there, went off to him and told him
all. The king who was ever ready to seize the opportune moment, when
he heard this, was once more anxious to give to the king of Vatsa
his daughter Padmávatí, who had before been asked in marriage by
his ministers. Then he communicated his wishes with respect to this
matter to the king of Vatsa, and also to Yaugandharáyana. And by the
advice of Yaugandharáyana, the king of Vatsa accepted that proposal,
thinking to himself that perhaps this was the very reason why the
queen had been concealed. Then Yaugandharáyana quickly ascertained an
auspicious moment, and sent to the sovereign of Magadha an ambassador
with an answer to his proposal which ran as follows: "Thy desire is
approved by us, so on the seventh day from this, the king of Vatsa
will arrive at thy court to marry Padmávatí, in order that he may
quickly forget Vásavadattá." This was the message which the great
minister sent to that king. And that ambassador conveyed it to the
king of Magadha, who received him joyfully. Then the lord of Magadha
made such preparations for the joyful occasion of the marriage, as were
in accordance with his love for his daughter, his own desire, and his
wealth; and Padmávatí was delighted at hearing that she had obtained
the bridegroom she desired, but, when Vásavadattá heard that news,
she was depressed in spirit. That intelligence, when it reached her
ear, changed the colour of her face, and assisted the transformation
effected by her disguise. But Vasantaka said, "In this way an enemy
will be turned into a friend, and your husband will not be alienated
from you." This speech of Vasantaka consoled her like a confidante,
and enabled her to bear up. Then the discreet lady again prepared for
Padmávatí unfading garlands and forehead-streaks, both of heavenly
beauty, as her marriage was now nigh at hand; and when the seventh
day from that arrived, the monarch of Vatsa actually came there with
his troops, accompanied by his ministers, to marry her. How could he
in his state of bereavement have ever thought of undertaking such a
thing, if he had not hoped in that way to recover the queen? And the
king of Magadha immediately came with great delight to meet him, (who
was a feast to the eyes of the king's subjects,) as the sea advances
to meet the rising moon. Then the monarch of Vatsa entered the city of
the king of Magadha, and at the same time great joy entered the minds
of the citizens on every side. There the women beheld him fascinating
[217] the mind, though his frame was attenuated from bereavement,
looking like the god of love, deprived of his wife Rati. Then the king
of Vatsa entered the palace of the lord of Magadha, and proceeded to
the chamber prepared for the marriage ceremony, which was full of women
whose husbands were still alive. In that chamber he beheld Padmávatí
adorned for the wedding, surpassing with the full moon of her face
the circle of the full moon. And seeing that she had garlands and
forehead-streaks such as he himself only could make, the king could
not help wondering where she got them. Then he ascended the raised
platform of the altar, and his taking her hand there was a commencement
of his taking the tribute [218] of the whole earth. The smoke of the
altar dimmed his eyes with tears, as supposing that he could not bear
to witness the ceremony, since he loved Vásavadattá so much. Then the
face of Padmávatí, reddened with circumambulating the fire, appeared
as if full of anger on account of her perceiving what was passing in
her husband's mind. When the ceremony of marriage was completed, the
king of Vatsa let the hand of Padmávatí quit his, but he never even
for a moment allowed the image of Vásavadattá to be absent from his
heart. Then the king of Magadha gave him jewels in such abundance,
that the earth seemed to be deprived of her gems, they all having
been extracted. And Yaugandharáyana, calling the fire to witness on
that occasion, made the king of Magadha undertake never to injure his
master. So that festive scene proceeded, with the distribution of
garments and ornaments, with the songs of excellent minstrels, and
the dancing of dancing-girls. In the meanwhile Vásavadattá remained
unobserved, hoping for the glory of her husband, appearing [219] to
be asleep, like the beauty of the moon in the day. Then the king of
Vatsa went to the women's apartments, and the skilful Yaugandharáyana,
being afraid that he would see the queen, and that so the whole
secret would be divulged, said to the sovereign of Magadha, "Prince,
this very day the king of Vatsa will set forth from thy house." The
king of Magadha consented to it, and then the minister made the very
same announcement to the king of Vatsa, and he also approved of it.
Then the king of Vatsa set out from that place, after his attendants
had eaten and drunk, together with his ministers, escorting his
bride Padmávatí. And Vásavadattá, ascending a comfortable carriage